Ruthless Billionaire, Forbidden Baby. Emma Darcy
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were locked in step together, moving in a capsule of space that was uniquely theirs—a capsule permeated with acute sexual awareness.
He took her down a short flight of stone steps to a lower terrace where several park benches were placed to catch the long-range vista of the harbour. His arm dropped away from her as he saw her seated. He hooked it on the back of the bench, seating himself beside her in a half-turn position, watching her instead of the scenic view in front of them.
Tammy hoped he couldn’t see any visible sign of the physical meltdown going on inside her. As it was, she struggled for enough mental strength to engage him in conversation. ‘You must have travelled to many places, Fletcher. Is there anywhere more beautiful than this?’ she asked, wanting to know more about his life, which was so separate to hers.
‘Not like this. Many places have a unique beauty. It’s impossible to compare one to the other because they’re so different and have an appeal of their own. I prefer more-primitive places than cityscapes. The glaciers in Alaska, Hualong Bay in Vietnam, the huge herds of wildebeest roaming the Serengeti Plains in Kenya…. Have you ever been outside Australia, Tamalyn?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve never earned enough money to go.’
‘Nursing isn’t a well-paid profession,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Have you graduated to being a fully qualified midwife now?’
‘Almost.’ She smiled, pleased that he recollected their conversation at Celine’s wedding. ‘You remembered that about me?’
‘Tamalyn of the stormy black hair and violet eyes, the lightning-fast tongue, the natural rhythm of a sensual siren, the heart of an earth-mother…there’s nothing I don’t remember about you.’ He rolled this out as though she was vividly entrenched in his mind.
It was so seductively flattering, Tammy was speechless with surprise and pleasure. It took her several moments to recover her voice and then it was to blurt out, ‘I wasn’t even nice to you.’
‘Nice…’ He laughed. ‘I get lots of nice from women. I prefer spice to nice. Tell me…do you still find the baby business rewarding?’
‘Yes. Though it’s hard when…’ An ungovernable rush of emotion brought tears to her eyes. She’d thought she’d dealt with the tragedy, put it in reasonable perspective, but being with him had somehow undermined the wall of containment she had erected. ‘We lost a baby this week,’ she said baldly. ‘A much-wanted boy. The grief of the parents…’ She shook her head as she fought not to completely choke up. ‘It was hard.’
‘Losing him…it wasn’t your fault?’
The concern in his voice, the implied caring for her, squeezed her heart. ‘No. There were physical defects. He didn’t really have a chance, poor little mite.’
‘I’m sure you did all you could for him, Tamalyn.’
‘Yes. It’s just that sometimes it’s not enough, and it hurts that I can’t change that because I want to so badly.’ She blinked hard to erase the moisture in her eyes, then looked up at him with a wry little smile. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s not what you want from me, is it?’
No fun, she thought. No sharp wit, no spice, totally unsexy. And he was put off by her emotional outpouring, not the slightest gleam of desire left for her in his eyes. They were totally dark, intensely dark, boring into hers as though transfixed by the heart she had just laid bare. When he finally spoke, it was in a strained tone.
‘Life and death…you’re intimately involved with it on a daily basis, while I—’ he grimaced ‘—I work with numbers, removed from the humanity that touches you all the time.’ His hand lifted, featherlight fingers brushing her cheek in a kind of tender salute. ‘You shred my pride, Tamalyn.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to carry on. You should have tremendous pride in what you’ve done, Fletcher. It’s so beyond most people’s capabilities and…’
His fingers moved to her lips, silencing the anxious rush to give him the importance he deserved.
‘I’m the one who should apologise,’ he said gruffly. ‘Calling what you do “the baby business” was crass. I didn’t realise, didn’t stop to think there could be pain as well as pleasure in your work. Last time we met, you spoke so happily about becoming a midwife.’
‘Mostly it is happy,’ she assured him.
‘Good!’
He smiled, and it was like sunshine bursting upon her after rain. She hadn’t dampened his interest in her, hadn’t spoiled anything. He cared about her and it was wonderful to bask in his caring.
‘Tell me about your work,’ she pressed eagerly, wanting him to share his world with her.
It was so much bigger, very high-level and political, though he was now in an advisory role on the system he and his team had created, passing what he’d called hack work to others. ‘My time is more my own. I can choose what I do,’ he explained.
Tammy hoped he would choose to spend a lot of it with her.
They stayed on the terrace together, watching the lights come on around the harbour as the twilight darkened, then followed the other guests into the house.
It wasn’t a formal reception, more like a cocktail party with drinks and gourmet finger food being regularly circulated. Tammy had never thought of eating being sexy. Somehow Fletcher made it so, watching her mouth when she bit into puff pastry or spooned in the yummy mornay scallops served on shells. He used a drop of sauce falling on her chin to wipe it off with his finger and put it in his own mouth with a slow sensuality that seemed terribly erotic. She found herself licking her lips and it wasn’t in appreciation of the fine food. She wanted to taste him, wanted to experience everything about the man he was.
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